Voyeurism
by counting-12x
Summary: Sledge didn't mean to look, but he couldn't turn away. / Set in episode 8.


_Disclaimer: I don't own anything. These characters belong to Steven Spielberg and Tom Hanks, although I have used some of the dialogue from episode 8. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._  
><em>This fanfic is based solely on the characters in the television miniseries The Pacific and in no way represents the real men that those characters are based on.<em>

/set in episode 8/

...

Sledge woke up in a sweat. Fuck, another nightmare.

He was hoping he'd sleep better tonight considering he was undercover, in a cot, back in Pavuvu. But nothing ever seemed fair anymore.

He rolled over, closed his eyes, and tried to fall asleep again. The snores of the exhausted men around him and the heavy fall of the rain started to drown out as he slipped deeper and deeper into darkness. BANG! The thunder seemed to shake his entire body, and he was wide awake again.

He hated the rain, the never-ending saturation. He was so fucking sick of it. Tropical paradise? Yeah, right. Tropical nightmare seemed more fitting.

He sat up and put his head in his hands. What a shit night. He took off his U.S.M.C. jacket, leaving him shirtless. It was too humid to wear it night now. Sledge looked to the far side of the tent at Snafu's cot.

Snafu. Sledge feared him the first time they'd met, probably just because he'd never met anyone like Snafu before. Those glassed-over eyes, that overbite, that accent. His bloodlust.

Scary.

But Snafu had started to seem almost human now. He felt what the rest of the guys felt, he was just better at hiding it. He was scared, too. Tired. Angry. Situation normal: all fucked up. What a befitting nickname.

Sledge had one too; a nickname. Snafu had christened him 'Sledgehammer', or _'Sledgehamma'_ as he pronounced it. But right now, he couldn't hear anything from Snafu. Sledge realised Snafu's blankets were limp, his cot empty. Fuck, where was he?

Sledge picked up his M-1 and peeked outside the tent. It was too damn dark to see anything, except for when the thunder struck and the lightning flashed. You had a brief moment of sight, then. He ventured out further to some trees at the side of the makeshift dirt road behind the tent. A silhouette became highlighted by a flash of lighting. It was Snafu alright, taking a piss within the trees.

_'You're a long way from home,'_ Sledge planned on saying, but didn't incase he startled Snafu (if such a thing was possible).

Another flash. Snafu was about 7ft from the road and within the trees that went for miles. Sledge could hardly see him. He moved closer and stood behind one of the lining trees to conceal himself, M-1 still in hand.

He could hear Snafu even over the thunder and the rain, panting. Sledge did his best to be quiet, peeking around the large tree trunk.

Snafu's eyes were closed. His head was tilted back, pants 'round his ankles, dick in hand.

Sledge knew all the guys in this company jerked-off every once in a while. Hell, they had to relieve their stress somehow. Sledge rarely did, though. He was one of the only virgins here, and if anyone ever caught him jerking-off, they'd probably give him shit for it.

"Why don't you just fuck a girl instead of fucking your hand?," Chuckler once asked him when the topic arose, apparently joking. The others laughed.

"Not a lot of girls 'round here," Sledge had replied.

The thunder roared again; a flash of lighting. Snafu's torso was soaking wet. His pants were muddy. Well, muddier.

Sledge glanced once more.

Snafu had one hand resting against the tree trunk in front of him, the other still grasping his dick. His eyes were still closed, and he was biting his lip. The water from the rain was dripping from his hair, off the tip of his nose. It was dripping from his torso, down his arm, and into the mud. His body moving uncontrollably, his hand moving faster.

Sledge removed his gaze, paused for a moment, and headed back to bed as quietly as the thunder would let him. Hell, if that wasn't one of the moments in this war that got his heart racing.

Back in bed, Sledge changed into an extra pair of pants and hung the others to dry. The water slapped against the ground as it fell from them. Minutes later, he heard footsteps, a groan, and Snafu's body landing on his cot.

"Sledge?," he asked. But Sledge didn't reply.

Snafu fell asleep before Sledge did.

...

Snafu looked over to Sledge, contemplating whether to ask or not. "Are my eyes yellow?"

"Why would your eyes be yellow?" Sledge asked back.

"Come on, your old man's a doctor. Look at my eyes."

Sledge sighed. "Give it a rest, Snafu."

Snafu's expression changed. "Seriously." Sledge walked over to the mirror near Snafu, not looking at him. "I'm gettin' that yellow jaundice that's been goin' around. I know it. The heebie-jeebies."

Sledge turned. "It's hepatitis and you don't have it."

Snafu kept talking like he didn't hear what Sledge had said. "I'll catch a fever and turn inside-out through my asshole like Carson in Love Company."

They looked at eachother, but Sledge turned away again. Snafu got up, touched Sledge's arm, and forced him to look at his eyes.

"Come on, look at my eyes." He paused. "I'm dyin', Sledge."

Sledge looked at Snafu's eyes. He didn't see yellow. He saw a flash. A silhouette, mud, Snafu's head back, dick in hand, the rain running off him.

"You're fine," he muttered. "Like you said, my dad's the doctor, not me."

Snafu averted his gaze and looked past Sledge. "Why your pants all wet, Sledge?" he asked.

Sledge hesitated. "Got up for a piss last night," he said in his most convincing tone. "Rain was heavy as hell, and my pants got wet."

Snafu looked him up and down. "Shoulda taken 'em off first," he said.

Sledge looked into Snafu's eyes once more, and by hell, all he could see was Snafu jerking-off.

"Is that what you do?" he questioned. "Get entirely naked just to take a piss?"

Snafu smiled that smile of his. The smile that looked menacing, but Sledge had learned when it was genuine.

"Nah, just let 'em fall in the mud," Snafu replied as he pointed to his trousers. They were filthy. "I'm not as bright as you, Sledgehamma." Sledge turned and went back to his cot. Snafu tilted his head. "Takin' a nap?" he asked.

"Hopefully," Sledge answered. "If you're quiet."

"Didn't sleep too well last night, huh?"

Sledge rolled over, his back to Snafu. "Nope."

"I thought you were awake when I came back. Couldn't tell, though."

"Shoulda asked me," said Sledge.

"I did." There was a pause. "Ain't you gonna ask me where _I_ was?"

Sledge hesitated. "In the mud?" he asked.

Snafu smiled again. "Somethin' like that."

_'Yeah, somethin' like that,'_ Sledge thought to himself.

Something like that.


End file.
